


The Etiquette of Pregnancy

by frickincheng



Series: The Way We Live [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Etiquette, F/M, Gen, Pregnancy, fuck your etiquette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frickincheng/pseuds/frickincheng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They told Aeler he couldn't come in.  But it would take a lot more to keep him from his wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Etiquette of Pregnancy

“You’re not allowed in.”  That’s what the girl tells him, or at least tries to tell him, as Aeler swiftly strides down the hall.  He actually pauses, looking down at her only fleetingly impressed with the moxie this little slip of a girl displays.  The emotion is immediately shattered when he hears Dasha wail out, her voice cracking with pain.

 

“You will not keep my from my wife.”  He growls at her, dark eyes flashing murder.  The girl manages to stand her ground, trembling though, hands spread out, in front of the door.  

 

“No,”  She manages to get out tremulously, “No, it’s not done, no-”  But the words no longer register because Dasha’s screaming now, and Aeler just puts a hand on the girl’s chest, easily shoving her aside, yanking the door open, and striding in.  

 

There’s a collective gasp from the midwife and her assistants, but Aeler doesn’t hear them, doesn’t even see them, his gaze locked, arrested on the figure of his wife, laying out on the bed.  

 

She was almost unrecognizable, her fine, russet hair an utter mess around her, pulled back into a simple braid that was coming loose, strands of it sticking to her sweaty face.  Her pale, fine features were twisted into pain, and she cried out again, eyes screwed shut, iridescent trails of tears trickling down her cheeks.  

 

I did that to her.  The thought writhes through Aeler’s numbed mind, guilt ridden.  I did that to her.  

 

He’s rushing over to her, the chatter of the midwife inane like the twittering of finches, and he just snarls, “See to her.”  And then he’s kneeling at the edge of the bed, reaching out for her hand.  

  
She starts, eyes peeling open, bloodshot, and stares down at him, lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, Aeler falters.  But the her fingers grip about his, desperately, painfully tightly, and Aeler wants to think that maybe a little of that pain lessens in her eyes.  


End file.
